Lieutenant JG Roy Bancroft - In For a Penny
Carter Schimpff
(( ‘Appetite Optional’, Ferenginar ))
Bancroft: ::whispering to MacKenzie and Munro:: Are we about to become culinary fugitives?
Addison's eyes lit up and a smirk drew across her lips.
MacKenzie: How exciting!
oO Yep, that tracks. Oo
Munro: At least we don't need to :: looks to the CO :: Enjoy the rest of our food.
Ferengi Inspector: –absolutely not bribing me enough to turn a blind eye to this. Three more fatalities and I have to fill out an incident form, Fring!
A long pause followed, during which Roy set down his fork very, very slowly.
Bancroft: ::voice low:: Captain, Commander, may I suggest a… strategic tactical withdrawal? I did pass a high-speed street-luge course just down the block. It’s Ferengi tax-law themed. You race gravity sleds while evading debt collectors, and it seems ideal for anyone wishing to immediately leave this establishment.
The Captain’s eyebrows wiggled in a way that caused Roy’s stomach to flip. There was mischief there. Danger. Neither of which he had any particular problem with on their own – but when put in combination with the person those eyebrows belonged to…
MacKenzie: And miss out on the fun? I've been waiting for a Ferengi to yell at another Ferengi since we left that gods-forsaken gymnasium.
Munro: Captain, I don't -
Roy’s mind was flying now, desperately pulling at multiple threads and attempting to knit them together into some sort of coherent reason for the three of them to leave.
The Captain’s safety? No, she’d probably be thrilled if a brawl broke out. He could feel the moment slipping away from him–
oO Screw it, I’ll just vamp. I’ll… I’ll do it live. Oo
Bancroft: Ma’am, if I may–
Before either he or Munro could cobble together their desperate pleas, MacKenzie popped another bite of the violent pinwheel into her mouth. Her eyes welled as the spice hit her sinuses, and she waved her fork at Roy as she chewed.
MacKenzie: Besides, I don't feel sick, do you?
Sick?
Sick?
His insides were roiling. He was mostly sure there was a hole in his esophagus. Sick didn’t begin to describe things.
Bancroft: Me? Oh, no ma’am. Not sick at all. ::stomach gurgling traitorously:: I do have some mild concern about the health and safety of Commander Munro’s intestinal lining, though…
MacKenzie glanced vaguely in Munro’s direction. Whether the look conveyed disappointment, derision, or sheer lack of interest was impossible to say.
Much of the Captain’s emotional palette was inscrutable to him, and Roy was reasonably sure that was intentional.
MacKenzie: I don't think she counts.
oO Balls. Oo
Munro: I would agree with that. Absolutely I do not count. On that note :: she smirked towards Roy :: I have a meeting to attend too back on the ship.
Something cracked within him.
For a single, unscripted second, Roy’s practiced dinner table decorum gave way. His head snapped toward Munro with the wounded shock of a man watching someone else take the last escape pod.
Then – just as quickly – his face returned to neutral. Composure returned. Smile intact.
The Ferengi continued shouting. Somewhere, a chair skidded.
MacKenzie drummed her fingers on the table, then turned, her patience evidently waning rapidly.
MacKenzie: If they come over here and try to keep me from taking the rest of my hasparat to go, I will get belligerent.
Munro: :: to Roy :: Good luck :: to the Captain :: Let's have drinks next time :: cautiously :: Normal drinks. The colourful type you put umbrellas in.
Roy’s eyes followed her like a drowning man waiting for a lifeline to be thrown to him. Maybe she’d fake a crisis. Say she needed his medical talents for… something.
oO Hell, tell the Captain you need to keel-haul me. She already thinks I’m an idiot – she’ll greenlight it without even reading the report. Oo
Munro: =/\= :: pointedly :: One to beam up. =/\=
The urge to hiss as Munro’s figure dissolved in a beam of sparkling light was nearly – but thankfully not entirely – unavoidable.
As the last shimmers of the transporter beam faded like dust in a ray of retreating sunlight, Roy turned back to MacKenzie.
In for a penny…
He lifted his fork and took another bite of the godforsaken hasperat – less a meal, more an undocumented war crime – and chewed without flinching. The spice assaulted him in waves, but he made not a sound. He was nearly through his original pinwheel MacKenzie had served him. He had no doubt another would be launched in his direction the moment this one disappeared.
Well, that’s how the game was played. And if any god had ever taken notice of him, he was certain now they had found him highly objectionable.
Bancroft: ::politely:: A shame Commander Munro had to leave so suddenly. She didn’t even finish her scotch. ::a beat:: What’s your poison, Captain? Bloodwine?
oO Puppies? Children? Oo
MacKenzie: Response
At that moment, Roy realized the clamor in the back – Fring and the Inspector’s verbal firefight – had gone eerily still. No shouts. No crashes. Just… silence.
He’d just begun to wonder whether that boded better or worse when a clearly chastened Fring materialized beside their table. His expression was nothing short of morose.
Fring: ::reaching for the plate of hasperat:: I… have to take this away. ::deeply wounded:: I suppose I’ll have to… ::nearly wailing:: give you a discount.
Reflexively, Roy reached across the table and laid a hand on the Ferengi’s – gently, but unmistakably – where it gripped the edge of the platter.
Bancroft: ::to Fring:: I really wouldn’t do that if I were you.
MacKenzie: Response
Fring hesitated, then tried to tug the platter toward himself.
Roy half-rose from his chair, his face still smiling, though his eyes no longer were. His hand didn’t move.
Bancroft: ::to Fring:: I realize that sounded polite. It wasn’t meant to be. ::beat:: It was a warning.
MacKenzie: Response
TAG/TBC!
===
Lieutenant JG Roy Bancroft
Medical Officer
USS Artemis-A
A240205RB1